It’s spring here in the southern hemisphere, which feels like early fall in Illinois: rainy and cool, the chilly nights and breezy days begging for old jeans and warm tea in hand. We spend our days on the still-green grass under warm cloudy skies, on the windy beach, or in our kitchen with the windows open. The jacaranda trees carpet our streets in fresh blooms, announcing springtime, but I cannot accept that we’re missing autumn; my spirit still thinks winter is coming.
Photo: Sam enjoying the windy day at the park
Last week, all I wanted to do was cook. And bake. Something complicated that required time, focus, a process. I wanted to use my hands to make something beautiful and comforting, something to look forward to as we spent our Thanksgiving season in a foreign country.
Photo: Apple pies with flaky flaky crust
So what do I do? Cook like it’s fall. Bake banana bread. Crispy pumpkin over grains and greens. Meatballs. Pasta with roasted garlic and cream. Then, later in the week, invite our small group to celebrate Thanksgiving, but outside at the park because the weather is beautiful and we can, for once.
Photo: Banana bread. You know what to do.
It is easy to overdo the spread, with new beets, kabocha pumpkin, butternut squash, chubby carrots and purple potatoes looking pretty as gems (and proving to be much tastier). We add a small turkey that Mosi roasts to perfection, my mom’s/grandma’s Italian-American stuffing, and mashed potatoes, green salads, cornbread and wine brought by others. The food takes over the table but we manage to sit down and eat together. Sam conks out, somehow sleeping soundly amidst the sounds of kids running around the playground.
Photo: art time. Rainy day = Good time to paint
Mosi brings out an apple pie, which everyone finds a way to fit into their overstuffed selves. And just like that (well, after a lot of shopping, cooking, planning, and dragging a table and chairs to the park), it’s our first Thanksgiving away from home, our first Thanksgiving as a family, spent under the sun in a city on the brink of summer.
Photo: Waiting for summer, gelato in hand
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